


Sunburst

by demonjeans



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonjeans/pseuds/demonjeans
Summary: What’s the point of everyday potentially being your last if you don’t do something stupid on the regular?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a super tiny thing I had an urge to write via a prompt that can be found on the tumblr auideas. (Though fellow writer NerdyAdjacent is to blame for sending me this <3 ) 
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> _It’s the zombie apocalypse, and Character A has made a home for themself. In the middle of nowhere, protected by a fence that Character A patrols daily, they haven’t had a real zombie emergency in months. Coming home from a supplies run/routine fence inspection/harvesting the vegetable garden/etc., Character A walks into their kitchen to find Character B, a ragged looking human that’s stuffing their face with Character A’s food._
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> \----

Dean’s head hurts. Fucking hurts. Ok, maybe he should’ve thought his plan through a bit more but his empty stomach overruled any chance for rational thought. When he walked through the woods this morning his hope was to maybe come across a stream, re-up his water supply. He hadn’t expected to find an overgrown fence perimeter. Of course he climbed it and investigated. What’s the point of everyday potentially being your last if you don’t do something stupid on the regular? 

Totally worth it. A cabin, still hidden amongst the trees but it’s there. Dean knows he needs to be careful. Cabin in the woods with a camouflaged fenceline most likely means some maniac with a gun. Dean has a handgun and no bullets. It’s worked once before and maybe he can make it work here if he has to. 

But as he carefully approaches the cabin and takes a peek inside there’s no one to be found. Maybe they went out for a supply run. Which is fine by him as he opens his backpack, he’ll have one of his own. That’s where the trouble started. There on the kitchen counter was an entire bowl filled to the brim with the most beautiful strawberries he had ever seen in his whole life. 

His brain went on automatic. Dropped his bag and started gorging himself. They were fucking delicious. 

Dean was so focused that he didn’t hear the front door open or someone sneaking behind him. Next thing he knew something clocked him on the back of the head and he was out like a light.

It’s late in the day when he came to. He’s tied around the ankles and wrists, slumped against a corner of the small living room. He blinks looking around the room when he spots what hit him. More like who. The guy is practically perched on a chair watching him from across the room. He doesn’t look like the gun maniac Dean was expecting. Looks more like what they hunt, frightened and wide eyed. 

So Dean speaks up first. “This cabin isn’t yours is it?”

“How’d you find this place?” His voice is rougher than Dean figured, a sort of rasp to it.

“Accident.” What's the point of lying? 

The other man gets up from the chair stepping closer. For a moment Dean thinks he should be worried. Yea, he’s not pointing a gun at him but that doesn’t mean that this guy isn’t some psychopath planning to hack him into little pieces. The problem however is he can’t seem to focus. This guy, he smells like flowers and the warm tone of his skin makes Dean want to reach out and touch him so badly he kind of aches. 

How hard did he get hit?


End file.
